


no one can find the rewind button

by plinys



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: M/M, References to Drugs, post 1.09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 14:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2655227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor comes back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no one can find the rewind button

**Author's Note:**

> Because after that midseason finale I had to write something to deal with this whole mess.

Connor didn’t intend to go back to Oliver’s place.

Sure, he said he would when he had left the day before, but he hadn’t meant it. It wasn’t from lack of want, if there was one place in the world that Connor wanted to be it was with Oliver, but he hadn’t been able to make himself do that.

After that night and the next day, he had locked himself in his apartment and stayed up all night pretending that he was studying for exams, but really just making himself sick with panic and regret.

He hadn’t slept at all that night.

Then today when they had sat him down with some police officer, who smiled at him and told him that they were just going to ask him a few questions, that he had nothing to worry about- well he nearly spilled it all right then and there, nearly lost it with every question.

The fact that he had made it through without blurting out “ _I murdered him”_ was a real accomplishment.

But if that was true, then why did he feel just as bad as he had felt driving home right after they’d done the deed, unable to bring himself back to his apartment where he knows he won’t be able to sleep and instead just lay there sick with regret.

When his body moves of its own accord changing paths from his apartment to Oliver’s he doesn’t even think to stop heading that way.

Not until he’s standing outside door 303, waiting for Oliver to open it and say, “I didn’t think you’d actually come back.”

“Me neither,” Connor admits, probably the first truthful thing he’s said all day, “but I didn’t want to go home and- if you’re busy though I can just-“

“No, you’re coming in,” Oliver says, voice steady and confident in a way that Connor can’t remember him having back before.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one that had changed over the past weeks.

“Yeah- okay,” Connor says, taking a step into the apartment.

His eyes sweep around Oliver’s apartment, as if searching to see if there was somebody hiding in the corners ready to take him away- he’s been doing a lot of that lately.

Paranoia is a bit of a bitch.

He’s not sure why he came here, last night, and then again today. It was just that he hadn’t been thinking, hadn’t been able to, and he had been so desperate for something that he couldn’t even put words too. All he had known for sure was that Oliver had been the answer to that unspoken question.

Even so he should have stayed away, he should have locked himself in his apartment and waited it out instead of dragging Oliver into his mess. Oliver didn’t deserve this, nobody deserved this but-

“Stop.”

Connor hadn’t even realized that he had been talking out loud until Oliver had stopped him, though now the words are out in the open it’s not like he can deny it, “I should just leave.”

“I’m not letting you leave,” Oliver replies just as quickly, so different from all the times before when he had told Connor to _get out_.

It was a bitter reversal, this time when Connor should be anywhere but here, the other man refused to let him leave.

The thought of it all brought a laugh up his throat, but it’s a bitter one that stings and turns his stomach, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“That’s normal,” Oliver says, features softening, because he thinks he understands, he thinks Connor’s going through some sort of detox or withdrawal not being haunted by his mind by the image of a still body on the floor and a pool of blood.

His stomach definitely lurches this time, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as he tries to breathe, tries to push the images out of his mind, before they can take up any solid and real space again.

He sway a bit and Oliver looks one second away from leading him down the familiar path towards the bathroom, to try and help because god- that’s what Oliver does, he helps people. He gives and gives and gives and for what? For Connor to show up and dump his problems on his shoulders. When he should just leave Oliver alone, let him live out the rest of his life without having to deal with this shit, instead he can sit around and do crosswords with stupid spatula guy who probably gives him mind-blowing sex and isn’t a complete mess.

Oliver makes this sort of choked gasping noise, that might have almost been fond- but that can’t be right.

When Connor looks up at his face, the other guy still looks worried and confused, but there’s a little bit more light in his eyes than there had been before.

“What?”

“You were thinking out loud again,” Oliver says, though it’s more like a question.

Connor curses before asking, “what part surprised you?”

“The fact that you thought my brother-in-law was going to give me mind-blowing sex,” Oliver admits, and there is that hint of mirth that Connor had sworn he saw, though it fades and the worry returns,  “I heard him talking to somebody when he stayed over for a few days, but I hadn’t realized that you had come by. If I had known…”

“I had brought flowers,” Connor says, “if that would have made any difference.”

Oliver’s smile is sadder now, but he shakes his head, “I didn’t expect you to be the type to bring flowers.”

“It wasn’t my idea,” he admits, “there was this girl at the bar and she said-“

“Oh,” Oliver says.

It’s not a noise of disappointment, but of understanding, or thinking that he understands. He can watch Oliver’s face and watch as the other man tries to put the pieces together. Making up the image of this drugged up version on him that had thought flowers could fix everything he’d messed up.

It wasn’t so far off the truth he supposed, half-truths were easier to tell than lies.

“I did some research,” Oliver says, filling the silence, “about clinics and support groups, and I know that might not be your style, but I want you to know that I am here and willing to help you in any way I can.”

Not for the first time Connor realizes that he doesn’t deserve Oliver, that he’ll probably never deserve him.

He wonders for a second if Oliver would still help him if he knew the truth, if he would put those amazing computer skills to use in figuring out how to get away with murder rather than how to help his _druggie_ ex-boyfriend get clean.

The funny thing is, he doesn’t even have to ask, because he already knows the answer.

It was the very reason that he had to lie in the first place.

“Thank you.”


End file.
